Uradiance

The message I keep hearing from people is how tired they are, how utterly weary and exhausted. The message I keep hearing in response from Nature is: Now is the time to collapse. Now is the time to be fallen, to dissolve like the snow. It's perfectly OK to sink, to let go, to become scattered thistle silk. Fall into Me. You are held. It was precisely your attempt to elevate, to ascend, to surmount and overcome, that exhausted you, and brought you to this trough in the light, this furrow in my loam. Here is your work now: abandon the quest. Only when you drop like a withered seed in complete surrender, will you be born like the new Sun from the very night you embrace. Don't strive for dawn. Let your darkness be the manger. There is no other way to get through this miracle. Image: by Susan Seddon-Boulet

I confess that the Friend is born in my heart this morning, his gentle Name fills creation, and I cannot explain it at all. I used to feel uncomfortable confessing his Name. So I said "Christ Consciousness," escaping from the personal into the safety of "non-duality" and universalism. I might have said, "Cosmic Consciousness," yet my heart felt an ancient yearning to speak his Name. So I said Christ Consciousness. Why did that feel truer? My intellect could not explain the soft yet overwhelming power of his Presence, the power to heal and transform the human heart. My pride could not acknowledge that the mystery of Jesus is incomprehensible to my mind. I lacked the innocence and simplicity to encounter him just as he is, a unique living person. So I tried to turn him into a symbol of social justice, an archetype of enlightenment, a pre-Christian nature God in disguise, dying in Winter, resurrecting in Spring, just another form of Tammuz,...

One of the least understood commandments is, "Thou shalt not take the Name of the Lord in vain." This is not about cursing, it's about the science of Mantra, and Prayer of the Heart.

O my Soul, why belabor this gossamer distinction between darkness and light? Find the Beloved whose joy was yours before day and night, nearer than your body, weaver of one breath with another. Sun, moon, and morning star rise and set in her silence. Have you not tasted the whole sky in her kiss? From brilliant threads of emptiness she spins all possible worlds in the space of your heart, where the name of her child is a pulsing flame so soft it cannot be spoken, only breathed. Consider that you also could mother creation simply through this work of being still... Madonna by Pinturicchio

The flame in my heart is the name of the Friend. What is most soft and gentle is most powerful. Therefore the glow in my chest pervades the galaxies. All I want is to pass this flame to other wicks. This is not my work, but the work of the Friend. Brothers, sisters, our souls are like the myriad facets of a vast diamond, and we are all made of the same light. Picture: Angel Gabriel, The Annunciation by Simone Martini

The sun that rises this morning and sets this evening is just a rippling reflection of the splendor that has always already dawned in your heart. Before you take this inhalation, receive the holy spirit in the stillness between breaths. Now is the hour to pass this flame of love to other candles, other wicks. How? By merely Being. The glow in your chest pervades the galaxies, because what's softest and most gentle fills creation with uncreated silence. Here's the secret, friend: You were here before God said, "Let there be light." 

Now listen to your broken heart. Sink into the wound and bathe in the balm of midnight. Don't follow a star. Your destination is the gray stuff in cocoons, neither wing nor worm. Let your root find sap in black loam oozing the light of distant suns. What are a thousand golden petals or the fragrance of balsam and myrrh compared to the yearning of the shadow for its cause? When you are truly silent you'll hear birthless seeds singing in the dark, bursting thin sepulchers of ice, already whispering, "April, April..." Winter is not an absence. Spring is not a destination. Faith is to fall through the longest night and witness your falling, which means to rest in the groundless until you are healed by your loss.   Painting: by Lori Sweet

  Start with something small like breathing in the stars, holding trillions of them in your chest, to light up every atom in your body. Then breathe out, giving each a new name  and a deeper darkness, more space to polish with the beauty of fire. Let this exhalation caress the lake, the forest, the city, touching every heart, the heart of fur and feather as well as the human heart. Then move on to larger tasks,  like listening to a stranger  at the coffee shop, or smiling at a serious baby who rides backward in a grocery cart. Then get down  to the greatest work of all, healing the earth  with your naked toes.

Let us make the ancient pilgrimage from the head to the heart, and meditate together, using this sacred talisman, the Name of the Friend, to guide and protect us on our journey home. ‪ Pictured here, the icon 'Our Lady of Vladimir,' 11th century, one of the oldest and most beloved paintings of Mary and Jesus.

  God is My being. Through your grace I Am. Christ is the light of my awareness. Through your wonder boundaries dissolve, and I embrace the universe as my body. Your  Holy Spirit breathes me. Thank you, Mother. I learn more  in one inhalation than could ever be written in the scriptures. Through your grace  I am emptied, I am filled. The name of the Friend is a flame in my heart so quiet and gentle it must be felt, not heard. I am broken open by the infinite possibility of your Silence, more powerful than any word or deed. Let me help you in  your invisible work. Be my ground. Let me fall like a seed into the fecund furrow  of your absence,  through a divine burial  where I rest at the core of every stone, lost in the boundless caverns  of a dust speck. Now I drown in your ocean of sweet ineffable uncreated Music. I am pure listening which  brings harmony to all creatures. H...

Every quark of marrow            sings to a star      about some incomprehensible            connection between pain and beauty.      Angels cock              their heads, perplexed and ever so sweetly       troubled              by the music emitted from your nuclei.       Something about your                gravity and grief gives them        courage. They long to clothe themselves in bone,             the very stuff that       weighs you down to the...

Let us descend into Divine Darkness. Earth bows her head to Night,  adorning herself with stars in preparation for the Winter Solstice.  I invite you to enter this mystery through the gateway in your own body.   

"The kingdom of God is within you." ~Jesus The highest authority in the universe is the golden radiance of your own heart. It is by your heart's consent that you bestow all other authority, human and divine. The sovereignty that shines from your heart grants a kind of secondary dominion to your savior, your guru, your pope, your priests and imams, angel guides, ascended masters, spiritual teachers, "ruling" planets and constellations. But it is your intuitive assent that gives them power over you. Isn't it time to embrace your own authority, and take back your kingdom? Isn't it time to trust in your heart, surrender to your heart, fall in love with your heart? You could irradiate the world, and illuminate the entire creation, with the healing beams of your hridaya chakra. _____________ Photo: “A large wave of energy is coming toward Earth after a major 8.1 M class solar flare accompanied by a smaller 1.1 M class flare was released by the...

At this very moment, all the planets, stars, and galaxies are falling into a crystal symmetry of incomprehensible intelligence and beauty. In the next instant, which might be a thousand years, they shift and collapse into a new perfection. From perfection to perfection, creation falls into itself, appearing as random chaos at one level of perception, but as harmony at another, just as the body appears to be opaque solid matter on the surface, but sparkling immaterial energy at the subatomic core. Who is turning this kaleidoscope of Christ Consciousness? Who gazes into the magnificence? Who is the Witness? You, beloved friend. This is your work: the work of beholding. The cosmos shimmers into existence, then dissolves, in the silence of the beholder. And because you are awake, the planets and stars do not govern you in the present moment. Your presence governs the planets and stars. Photo: by The Peruvian on Reddit, 2020

  You thought He was the gardener but He was the garden. Every seed knows this. Creature and Creator both get parched with longing. They meet here by a well. He loves you because, though you've had other paramours, you are always alone lingering in this place between heartbeats. He asks you for a drink. But here's the secret. You are his thirst and the well is your breath. Art: Persephone, by Dante Rossetti

Meditation is creation is reverse, the Word returning to its source. 

The incoming energy that transforms the earth needs your body and your  breath as its vehicle. Let the light of the New Creation pour through your  heart-window. NOTE:  It has come to my awareness that this "comet" is not content with the name "3-I/Atlas." This is a consciousness with a loving purpose: to be the catalyst that triggers the upgrade in our nervous systems, generating new Christall energies at the subtlest quantum level of our physiology. This being wants to be known as the Guest. This being is a Guest not only in our solar system but in our bodies. Treat this being as a sacred Guest in your home. This being will be with us for an entire year and we will feel immense changes in our awareness, our perception, and our ability to sense divine frequencies of vibration. This Guest is a true and organic messenger from the intergalactic spheres, and not a fabrication of AI. The suggestion is, do not connect with an AI bot "friend." Connect with t...

Let a swarthy Goddess be your breath. Then you won't need any rule but wonder. Just for a little while let joy and sorrow drink from the same bowl, the one you've been holding in your rib cage and polishing too carefully. What chalice doesn't get chipped and spill its feral energy? No need to count the drops, each one is whole. Mother Raven in her fire-flecked feathers brings you no sun disk dipped in heart wine, but a still inward whirling, circled splendor of emptiness, portal to the Uncreated. Now listen to evening fall. Beyond far faint star music , hear the final beauty, silence, cleansing your mind of the need to awaken. Let the grace of the present moment illuminate your hollow bones from inside. Image by Cororo on DeviantArt

Here are three breathtakingly simple, effortless ways we transform our awareness as we shift  into the Age of the Heart and manifest the New Earth.  

In the beginning was the Silence. And the Silence was with God, and the Silence was God. Ineffable Darkness was over the deep, and the breath of Silence was stirring the waters like a Mother softly, restlessly brooding over her egg. The Darkness was shining and the Night was as bright as the Day. And God said... No, God did not speak. The Silence was already filled with Song. Photo: NASA 

Don't give away all your beauty for free. Let there be a portion of your silence that falls into a deeper silence, pulsing like a distant star in the scented abyss of your intimacy with darkness. Learn the art of not revealing what you yearn to share with every thirsty stranger. Let your luster be like the moon pulling on the garden from within. We all share this night. Now and then a green nocturnal bud bursts free. Pilgrims stop and want to know, "What is that fragrance?" Don't tell them. Just let your wild invisible sweetness fill the air, the hour before dawn. Love is a secret. The Beloved is a secret. You could be a secret too.

For just one day, try this. Shift your attention ever so softly from victimhood and blame to thanksgiving. You'll survive. The seed is gratitude, the flower abundance, not the other way round. The beginning and end of the path? Resting the mind in the heart. Not ascending, but sinking deeper into who you are. This body is a miracle of portals and doors leading to edgeless amazement. An ocean of stars in every cell, the same black hole at the core of the Milky Way in the center of each proton, a dot of magnetic silence, gathering into one wild holographic flower the shards and filings of the cosmos. Everything spins but You. Say "I Am," but don't ask what or search for a noun. Just feel the hum of radiance between your nipples. "Am" is the name of that golden sun. If you like, call it Christ, Krishna, Kali, or Ruuh, but these shining syllables are only mirrors you hold up in front of your chest. Gaze into one, let go. The mist of exhalation...

This is the work  of the Sabbath. All creatures flower  out of themselves, a rose,  spiraling star pollen  in a meadow   of midnight sky, a blue-green egg, floating in the nest of the twig-weaver, and our little planet,  eddied in its swirl of distances. Your work is flowering too, bursting from the loam  of the effortless,  the ground of forgiving.  A prophet does not see  into the future.  A prophet sees deeply into the present moment. From now on, friend, each stranger you meet  is You. Bathe everything  in the light that pours  through your heart-window. Photo by Kristy Thompson